


nobody else sees

by nightsickness



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Childhood Memories, Coming Out, Drugs, Estrangement, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Marijuana, Members of Fall Out Boy, Sexual Content, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsickness/pseuds/nightsickness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He spent half his time hiding, and the other half getting high with his friends. This isn't supposed to be his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nobody else sees

**Author's Note:**

> This songfic to Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez was kind of a long time coming. I don't know, it's kind of pointless, seeing as how it doesn't really tell a story, but I just kind of wanted to post it. This is also my first fanfiction on this website, so please be nice, as I don't have much experience! Comments and helpful tips are greatly appreciated and recommended.

We'll _be a perfect family._

'Perfect' doesn't even begin to describe his family. His life did seem pretty 'picture-perfect', though. He was born into a good Mormon family. His parents cared about him and he didn't fight with his siblings. It was all he'd ever known. Although, that doesn't mean his life _was_ perfect. Not even close.

He grew up believing in God and following every single rule he was told. He read the Book of Mormon daily, talked to his Bishop more than he did his friends, and loved his family. Lovey lovey lovey. All the time.

Church church church, pray pray pray. Every day. Sundays were drab. Saturdays were his high days. Mondays through Fridays meant school, so it didn't amount to much. He was smart, though, so he could afford coming in high sometimes. His teachers were dumb as rocks, so they never took in the overly-happy appearance in his face, the way his body moved around sluggishly, and the fact that he always looked like he had a serious case of pink eye.

He spent half his time hiding, and the other half getting high with his friends.

This wasn't supposed to be his life.

 _When you walk away  
_ _is when we really play._

His life was a lie. He lied lied lied. Smoked smoked smoked.

_You don't hear me when I say,  
Mom, please wake up._

His mom was so blind. Both his parents were. They just... never  _noticed_ anything. Forget about the fact that Brendon practically  _screamed_ for help. Forget that he came home completely stoned off his ass most of the time, stumbling around like he would if he were drunk, eyes red as a tomato. Forget that he came home late every single day with unidentifiable smells on his body. Forget it all. His parents were stuck in their own marvelously  _lousy_ existences to notice that their son was a fucking basket-case.

He didn't want his parents to know, though. He told himself this day after day.  _I don't want them to find out._ But the truth was, he did. He wanted his parents to help him, to _do_ _something_  for him, and to just acknowledge that he  _wasn't_ okay for one damn second. _  
_

_And your son is smoking cannabis._

Smoking was a freedom he'd never known before. Stifled by his own home, his own family, he turned to the weed. When weed just wasn't cutting it any more, there was cocaine. He didn't like that much - he started getting nosebleeds and sort of felt like his nose would fall off if he continued doing it. But any kind of drugs he could get his hands on, he tried.

He first discovered marijuana when he was twelve years old. One of his friends - Matthew... Eric... he didn't remember. It doesn't really matter - asked him if he wanted to hang out, and he agreed. His friend was his older brother and four other guys, all of which Brendon had never met, and they looked older. At least sixteen or seventeen. And they were all smoking.

Brendon's first instinct was to run away. He was sure they would beat him up, or something. He didn't even know any of them! Until one of them, the biggest one, looked at him for a moment before smiling widely and handing over his joint.

_No one ever listens._

He tried to tell his older brother once, as stupid as it was. His siblings were just as blind as his parents. They never realized that anything was wrong with him. They just lived. He only existed. He was an outsider in his own home.

_Places, places.  
Get in your places._

After lying became such an easy topic that he really felt like he could do it in his sleep, he started feeling as if he were playing charades. His family knew one side of him. His friends knew another. He knew his third side, though, his real side.

He was just a liar. Every morning he would wake up and throw on this mask. The only time he ever let it fall off was when he was by himself. That didn't happen very often.

 _Everyone thinks that we're perfect.  
_ _Please don't let them look through the curtains._

Brent Wilson was a lazy motherfucker. He didn't show up to practice half the time, and the other half, he never wanted to participate. But he was responsible for introducing Brendon to Ryan and Spencer, and, _God_ , Brendon would be lost if he hadn't.

"Ryan and Spencer, this is Brendon. Brendon, Ryan and Spencer."

Sweet, sweet Ryan. He was beautiful. Poor, poor Brendon. He was a monster beneath the innocence in his appearance.

He fell in love. It wasn't hard to. Ryan is a beautiful creature that Brendon thought everyone should be in love with. He knew nothing about the boy, only that he was a good songwriter and guitarist, and that his father was a douchebag. But besides that, he didn't  _know_ Ryan. He didn't know what his favorite color was, his favorite movie, favorite food, favorite sport. And he just really wanted to.

It didn't take a while before they were offered a record deal by Pete-fucking-Wentz. Brendon knew they were good, he knew they would make it pretty far, and he had no doubt that they would be discovered. What  _did_ surprise him was that it took only a day. They had five songs written and recorded and had posted them on LiveJournal, and the next day they had an email from Pete wanting to meet up with them to discuss signing them to his label.

 _A_ _record_ _deal_.

A couple months later, and he was getting kicked out of his house, and his family, for finally, _finally_ , coming clean to his parents about everything he was hiding. "I don't believe in God, I'm high most of the time, Mormonism is a shitload of fuckery, oh, and I'm gay." They were livid, to say the least. Kicked him right out on his damn ass. No goodbyes, no nothing. It was better this way, he would tell himself.

He hated them, too.

He talked to Pete about dropping out of high school. Pete said the whole record deal thing was gone if he didn't graduate.

With five months left of high school, he got a job at this disgusting smoothie place that smelled more like piss than it did fruit, but it paid enough for him to stay in a shabby apartment, so he didn't bother quitting and searching for someplace else. It was pretty close to nothing, but at least he was free from his parents pulling him down and down and down.

_Picture, picture._   
_Smile for the picture._

Fame was easy for him. He flashed a smile and posed for pictures and said all the right things to interviewers. It wasn't hard to be liked by people. He was used to saying things he didn't mean, and he was used to lying; it was his childhood, after all.

_I see things that nobody else sees._

He met Sarah in 2008. He thought he was in love with her, but he was actually in love with the way she looked and acted and sounded; she was all hair-dye and eyeliner and sugary perfume and million-dollar smiles. It took him six months to realize that. In hindsight, he probably should have realized the first time they had sex, but she had been quick to assure him that it was normal and they would get better at it.

Six months of bad sex wasn't fun, he remembered.

_And forgets his infidelity._

Brendon didn't cheat on Sarah. If kissing another dude counts. It probably does, so, _okay_ , he  _did_ cheat on Sarah. He felt sort of bad about it, because he liked Sarah; he really did - she's the kind of person he'd be great friends with.

In his defense, he was drunk off his ass when it happened, and it was just some random guy at a bar.

Ryan was pissed off, too. Maybe even moreso than Sarah. He didn't speak to Brendon for weeks. Something about respecting yourself.

_Go back to being plastic._

Brendon wanted Ryan. He told Jon this one day by complete accident, and Jon of course told Spencer, and Spencer of course told Ryan.

Ryan didn't react for days. Brendon thought that maybe he just wasn't interested in him, or  _guys,_ for that matter,and maybe just wanted to play it off like he hadn't even heard, even though it was clear that he had. Until one day Ryan came into Brendon's room late at night and crawled under the covers with him. Brendon was about to ask what was up, but Ryan's lips were pressed up against his before he could get any words out.

"I love you," Ryan's voice was like honey. He was panting slightly, and his breath tickled Brendon's face. Brendon's lips found their way to Ryan's neck.

Life moves on. It moves and moves and moves. It doesn't slow down for anybody, and if you're not smart enough to move along with it, then you're not ever going to get anywhere. Brendon taught himself this at a very young age, and he lived by it, every single day. He decided to move on with his life with Ryan by his side.


End file.
